Glimpse
by Anonymous033
Summary: A series of independent stories about Tony and Ziva; some in the present and some the future, some with canon Tiva and some established Tiva. Divided into two parts.
1. Part I: Hawaii

**Summary: "It's their one-year anniversary as a couple."**

**Disclaimer: Has anyone ever been sued for claiming Hawaii as their own? (By the way, I don't own NCIS. Or Hawaii. Just in case.)**

**Spoilers: None for this chapter.**

**Hi, everyone! I've been pretty busy lately, but since I apparently can't go for long without publishing something, I decided go ahead and create this series of drabbles :D they are actually stories I wrote for Bree from Tumblr, and she kindly gave me permission to publish them. Each drabble is more or less standalone, although some tie in to my other fics. You don't need to have read those fics to understand these drabbles.**

**Bree, this series is for you.**

**Everyone else, please enjoy and review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Hawaii<strong>

It's their one-year anniversary as a couple, and although Ziva naturally hadn't wanted to do anything big, Tony managed to convince her to take a vacation with him (he still hasn't told her that he just really wanted to visit Hawaii).

They're holding hands and walking along the beach now, making footprints in the soft, wet sand; to their left, the setting sun paints the sky a fiery red. It's a sunset like no other, and Tony knows it because, whatever the outcome, he will remember this sunset forever.

They come to several large boulders; he sits down on one and pulls her down beside him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It had taken her a very long time to accept being held like that in public by him. Now, though, she simply flows with the motion, tucking her head into the curve of his neck.

He presses a kiss into her hair. "Hey, Zi?"

"Yeah?" she asks softly, as if she doesn't want to break the majesty of the sunset.

"If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?"

She lifts her head and blinks dazedly at him. "Are you asking?"

He draws his right hand out of his Hawaiian shorts and opens his palm. On it sits the most beautiful ring. The tiny diamonds glimmer in the sunlight; it's simple and inconspicuous, just like how he knows she would want it.

"Yes," he answers, and his eyes never leave her face.

She looks at the ring once, and then into his eyes. "Yes," she tells him, and she's never sounded surer in her life. For some reason, her eyes are suddenly wet; she blinks rapidly before finally bursting into laughter and wiping furiously at her face. "Will you put the ring on before I start crying?"

He chuckles and hurriedly slips the ring onto her finger, and he barely has time to register the perfect fit before she's removed her hand from his grasp and wrapped her arms around his neck. She buries her head into his shoulder, and he knows that it's because she doesn't want anyone to see that she's crying.

Finally, he feels a soft kiss right on his clavicle. She turns her head slightly. "I love you, Tony."

"I love you too, Zi."


	2. Part I: Peanut Butter and Jelly

**Another one! :D I figured that since the Chinese New Year is on the 23rd, I won't have time to post after this, so I'm posting this at 4AM, haha. I hope you enjoy!**

**Summary: Tony and Ziva make a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich for their daughter.**

**Disclaimer: I didn't invent jam, either :( it's really sad. I haven't invented anything yet.**

**Spoilers: None.**

**This fic uses an original character from one of my other fics, _How Far We've Come_; there are slight spoilers to that fic, but nothing serious or interesting, LOL. You don't need to have read that fic beforehand.**

**Enjoy; please review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Peanut Butter and Jelly<strong>

"Let me do it," Tony says, making a grab for the butter knife. Ziva swings it out of his grasp.

"Why?" she asks, an exasperated smile on her lips.

"You're doing it wrong: it has to be one on each side of the bread; not split into half and half!"

"But that would be too much!"

"That's the fun part about peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches," Tony groans. "You gorge on them, not hold back for the sake of health. You wouldn't get the peanut-butter-and-jelly feel then."

Ziva laughs. "What feel is that? It is just food!"

"Haven't you ever felt like you're holding a piece of heaven in your hands?" He closes his eyes and imagines the sandwich before him. "That smell, wafting toward you; making your mouth water. You know it'll be good. And then you take a bite, and it's better than you thought. Now _that's_a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich."

He opens his eyes and finds Ziva staring at him, eyebrows raised. "Too much?" he asks. She nods. "Yeah. But still, I mean, if you spread it half and half, the peanut butter and jelly won't mix. That's an outrage! It needs to mix."

Ziva sighs and hands him the knife. "Fine, you do it."

Shooting her a puppy-eyed grin, he proceeds to spread liberal amounts of peanut butter and jelly onto the two slices of bread. She watches him in silence, alternating between disapproving looks at the sandwich and adoring looks at him (which he suspects she doesn't know she's doing).

"There." He puts down the butter knife and puts the two slices of bread together in satisfaction. "See? This is a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich."

"Mmhmm." She rolls her eyes. "Lila!"

The little girl runs in, her dark brown curls flying all over the place. Her eyes brighten as they fall upon the sandwich. "My sandwich is ready!"

He beams and hands her the plate. "Enjoy, little princess."

"Thank you Daddy!" The four-and-a-half-year-old clumsily curtseys and trips her way out with the plate, laughter bubbling out of her throat.

"No crumbs, Lila!" Ziva yells after her, laughing. She turns back to find Tony grinning at her. "What?"

Toy shakes his head and presses a kiss to his startled wife's lips. "You're so beautiful today."


	3. Part I: Contemplation

**I don't know why I'm updating this at half past three, haha. And don't ask me, because I'm too sleepy to come up with a reason. I think it's mostly because I can't remember when I last updated ... eh, enjoy!**

**There are no spoilers, I don't own NCIS, and please review, lol.**

**-S_oph_**

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><p><strong>Contemplation<strong>

"I don't see the point of this," Ziva observes.

"It's only been five minutes, Zi," Tony laughs. "A little patience goes a long way in these sorta things."

"It's been more like six minutes, and _nothing _is moving."

"Isn't that kinda the point?" He leans over to ruffle her hair affectionately, and she makes a face at him before twitching out of his reach.

"I thought the point was that fishes would come."

"Yeah, but sometimes they take a while. Guess it's a slow day." He drags his eyes away from her face and stares into the lake waters, its gentle movements seeming to captivate him and lull him into a sense of peacefulness.

She watches him, fascinated. Rarely has he ever been this calm. Tony is on many days like a playful puppy, fun-loving and full of good humour; on other days he is a ball of intense energy, focused and driven by determination so ferocious that it almost scares her. She can't say which side of him she's more attracted to—all she knows is that together, they form a person she respects and trusts beyond anyone else in the world.

But looking at him now, so serene and still, she realizes that she _loves_ him beyond anyone else in the world.

"Why are you staring at me?" He frowns at her and then feels his face, checking to see if there's anything on it.

She breaks into a smile and turns her attention back to the water. "Just contemplating, Tony."


	4. Part I: Comforter

**Summary: Ben has an unusual request for his mother.**

**Disclaimer: Babies—I did not invent them. Nor did I create NCIS. _However, _Lila and Ben belong to meeeee...**

**Spoilers: None. This fic contains my OC Tiva babies, but you don't really need to be well-acquainted with them to read this.**

**Dedication: Mikey, this is for you! I _just _wrote this, haha, so no one's ever seen it before :D I hope you feel better soon!**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Comforter<strong>

"Mommy, I want a com-orter," Ben says, tugging at his mother's pants.

"A com-orter?" Ziva asks in confusion, looking up from the laundry she's folding. She scoops Ben up into her lap and ruffles his hair. "What's a com-orter?"

"Blankie. Like on TV."

"Oh, a comforter. But you sleep in a crib, Ben, and they don't have crib-sized comforters."

Ben pouts disappointedly. "But I want a com-orter."

She laughs. "We can get you one when you're bigger, like your sister has in her Big Girl bed. How about that?"

"When is bigger?"

"In a few years' time."

"I have Big Boy bed?"

"Yes. In a few years' time, you will have a Big Boy bed."

"Now?"

She shakes her head. "You're too small for a Big Boy bed now, Ben. But I can make you a quilt for your crib. Will that work?"

"What is a qilt?"

"A quilt's another type of blanket."

"Like a com-orter?"

"A bit, yes. It is very pretty."

Ben considers that, absent-mindedly sticking his thumb into his mouth. "Okay."

She gently pulls his hand away from his mouth and kisses his cheek. "Okay. You want to go play with your sister?"

"She making mud pies again," he informs her. "Giving them to Daddy. I don't like mud pies."

"Why not?"

"Daddy says can't eat them."

"Your _abba _is right," she tells him, resisting the urge to laugh again. "Do you want to help me fold the laundry, then?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay." She sits him atop the dining table and pulls a pair of his pants out from the pile of laundry. Then she places it before him and covers his hands with hers, gently guiding his movements. "See, you fold it like this…"


	5. Part I: Shampoo

**Today, M E Wofford was "encouraging" me to write, haha. So here I am, penitently updating this fic, which I should've done ages ago since it's all been written anyway :P**

**I promise I'm not going MIA on y'all! I'm just working on another really long fic right now ... it should be done in a few weeks, and there'll be regular updating for that fic from then onwards.**

**I don't own NCIS, but please enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Shampoo<strong>

"Hmm."

"Whatchu looking for?" He peers over her shoulder fondly, staring at the two products in her hands.

"I'm trying to decide which to buy." She holds one up and sniffs it.

"Why?"

"Well, I've been using this one," she waves the bottle in her left hand absent-mindedly, "for quite a while, and I think some change would be good."

"I still like that one." He jerks his head at the bottle in her left hand, banging into her jaw bone by accident. She looks at him in surprise, her lips parted.

"You use it?"

He sputters. "No! That's like such a girly shampoo. But...you said you use it."

"So?"

"Well … I don't know," he mutters vaguely before stepping back and proceeding with his shopping. A clang and a sudden weight to his right hand makes him look down, and he sees that she's dropped the shampoo which she usually uses (the one which always reminds him of her, even though he'd never tell her that) into the basket he is holding.

He looks back at her, and she smiles and tilts her head in a manner that seems all-too-knowing. He clears his throat sheepishly. "Good choice."

Her smile widens. "I think so, too."


	6. Part I: Vacuum

**Shoot! I almost forgot to post this ... ahem. But I thought that since I'm going away for three days, I'll post this now :D**

**This is part of my family series, even though neither Lila nor Ben are personally in this story. They're older here, though; Lila is seven-and-a-half, and Ben is almost six.**

**Enjoy, and please review! See y'all when I come home!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Vacuum<strong>

A roaring sound wakes him from the middle of his deep slumber, and he groans, rolling over onto his back. It takes him a few minutes to find the strength to get out of bed and stumble into his daughter's room.

"Ziva," he complains, and his wife shuts off the vacuum cleaner and turns to look at him, an amused smile on her lips.

"Good morning, Tony," she says, her eyes flicking to his hair; knowing her as well as he does, he can tell she's currently resisting the urge to ruffle it.

"You woke me up," he tells her, jutting out his bottom lip as he approaches her. She gives in (somewhat) to her urge after all and reaches up to smooth down his hair.

"You have been asleep for 12 hours. I thought some waking up was necessary."

"Couldn't it have been with some hot sex?" She pulls on his hair and he winces. "Or at least breakfast?"

She laughs. "I would have given you breakfast, but Ben and Lila have eaten it all."

"Ahh, I knew they wouldn't leave any for me." He smiles cheekily and pulls her to him, planting a kiss on her lips. "Guess I'll just have to settle for the hot sex, then."

"Tony, I have vacuuming to do." She pushes half-heartedly against his chest, laughing when he doesn't let her go.

"So? Vacuum will still be here later."

"The children are downstairs!"

"I have to share you _and _breakfast with them?" he asks with mock dismay, and she laughs again.

"Yes. But tell you what. You finish vacuuming while I send the children off to their piano classes, and when I come back you can have me all to yourself."

"Really?" He brightens.

"For an hour or so." She looks him up and down. "Will that be enough?"

He breaks into a grin. "Yeah."

She smiles back and pats his cheek, stepping out of his embrace and shooting him a sultry look. "See you later, Tony."


	7. Part I: Chinese

**I'm back, people! :D Anyone miss me? No? That's okay. I'm uploading a new chapter, anyway!**

**Oh look, that rhymes!**

***Ahem* I don't own NCIS, and Chinese food is just "food" where I live :D**

**This chapter is more "old 'Tony and Ziva,'" in the sense that this kind of banter probably used to be easier for them.**

**Enjoy; please review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Chinese<strong>

Tony's head snaps up as he watches Ziva round the barrier and sit down at her desk. He eyes the plastic bag on her desk jealously.

"I smell food."

She smirks and pulls out a carton and a pair of chopsticks. "Yes. I got Chinese."

"What?" His expression turns to one of incredulity. "You didn't bring me to the restaurant with you!"

"I asked you if you wanted to go, but you were too busy playing that game on your computer."

"Well, did you get me any food?"

She pretends to think about it as she sticks her chopsticks into the carton. Then she shrugs. "No."

He whimpers. "So I've to sit here finishing my paperwork on an empty stomach?"

"You could go and get Chinese by yourself."

"I'm lazy to." He pouts. "And I don't want to go alone."

"I am not accompanying you, if that's what you are hoping for."

"I'll pay you?"

"No, thanks. I have money."

He sighs and stands up, sauntering over to her desk.

"Touch my food and die," she warns him. He hastily puts his hands behind his back. Then he kneels and props his chin on her desk, watching her wistfully.

She rolls her eyes and reaches into the plastic bag, pulling out another carton and handing it to him. He takes it happily and opens it, gasping. "_Chow mein!_ I love you, Ziva."

She snorts. "Only because I bring you food."


	8. Part I: Plumbing

**Okay, new chapter! :D And new chapter of _Along the Way _tomorrow, for those who are interested in knowing XD**

**No spoilers, and I don't own NCIS.**

**To Alice (alidiabin): I know the ending sounds like your fic ... but I swear, _I swear, _I wrote this before you published yours. So I hope you don't mind *nervous laughter*.**

**-_Soph_**

**Update: I had to re-upload this because apparently it wasn't accessible by some readers the first time ... so here it is! And now, I gotta figure out what to do with my reviews.**

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><p><strong>Plumbing<strong>

_Drip, drip, drip._

Ziva flinches as another droplet hits the bridge of her nose, rolling down the forehead of her upturned face and wetting the tip of her widow's peak. A low growl sounds from the back of her throat, and she twists her hands even more ferociously.

It serves to do nothing except increase the amount of dripping water.

The doorbell interrupts another of her growls, and she swings upwards to bang into the inside edge of her kitchen counter. She can't stop the angry yell that results from it.

"Zi?" Tony's voice immediately calls from outside the door. _Tony's. Voice. _She's _seriously_ getting irritated now.

"What?" she snarls as she flings open the door.

"Whoa. I just came to ask if you wanted to do Movie Night."

"My tap is dripping."

"What?"

"My tap. It is dripping. I'm trying to fix it. No Movie Night. Go away."

"How's the fixing coming along?"

Ziva narrows her eyes at the question that stops the door from its path to closing. "Not very well."

"I can help you do it." Tony pushes gently against the door and she gives up, letting him in. "Where?"

"Kitchen."

"Got the tools you need in there?"

"Yes."

He disappears and re-emerges not five minutes later. "All done."

"What? I've been at it for half an hour!"

"Well … I guess ninjas aren't good at fixing pipes?"

Ziva starts to growl at him, but he frowns as he steps closer and runs a light hand over her forehead. "You have a bump on your head."

"I hit my head when I was getting up to answer _your _doorbell."

"Hey, if it weren't for my timely arrival, you'd still be under that sink. C'mon." Tony grabs her hand and pulls her into the kitchen, sitting her down and bustling about.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting an ice pack." He presses a small bag of ice to her forehead. "I mean, I've no idea if this works, but it's the only thing I know how to do."

She snorts. "Of course."

"That, and fix your sink."

She quietens. "Thank you."

He leans down and lifts the ice pack, replacing it with his lips.

"Hey! What are you doing?" She swats him away, and he chuckles as he returns the ice pack to her head.

"Kissing it better."


	9. Part I: Elusiveness

**This is part of my family series, and for some reason I feel like I should warn that there is breast-feeding involved, haha. Also, I don't know if that is at all the proper ... protocol, but my knowledge in this area is woefully deficient. Haha!**

**Enjoy!**

**-S_oph_**

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><p><strong>Elusiveness<strong>

"No. No. No. Where is it?" Tony frantically digs through the blanket and pillows, searching for the elusive object.

"Hurry up!" Ziva hisses, shifting Lila onto her other arm and patting the baby comfortingly.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He hisses back. "Why don't you come over here and look yourself? I don't know where she's put it."

"Well, I would, but I am busy holding her. Where is the other one?"

"I don't know. _You're _the one who kept all of them."

"And that's your excuse for not knowing? I kept the spare in the changing table, but it's gone now."

"Well, I didn't take it."

"And Lila did, is that so?"

He pauses in his search and sighs at his wife. "Look, we can find the other one later. We just need to find this one now."

"Before the neighbours wake up."

"Yeah. Oh my God, can you just … breastfeed her or something?"

"You want me to shut her up with my breast."

"That would work."

Rolling her eyes, Ziva unbuttons her top and shifts Lila to her breast, ignoring his leer. "Continue searching," she hisses at him as Lila sucks on her and falls quiet. She throws her free hand up in exasperation. "Great. This works. We can go back to bed now. I will just hold her like that for the next few months."

Tony chuckles despite his tiredness and presses a quick kiss to his wife's cheek before bending over the crib again. "We'll find it, Zi."

Ziva sinks down into the chair by the crib and leans her head exhaustedly against its back. "Before or after sunrise?"

"Preferably before. I don't think Gibbs would appreciate you showing up to work with a baby attached." She hums her assent. "Found it!"

He whoops in triumph and hands Ziva the pacifier. Taking it gratefully, she waits for Lila to unlatch before putting the pacifier into her mouth. It only takes a few minutes for the baby to go back to sleep. She slips Lila back into her crib, tucking the baby in and making sure that the bed clothes aren't loose.

Then she leans back against her husband, blinking sleepily as she seeks his comforting touch. He slips an arm around her waist and kisses her temple. "C'mon, _tesorina mia_. Bedtime."

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><p><strong>AN: _Tesorina mia _is Italian; loosely translates to "my little treasure" (feminine), if I haven't remembered wrongly.**


	10. Part I: Pony

**Yea, yea, I know I haven't updated in a month :( hehe, guess I'm not very good at time delegation, especially since this story is pre-written :P**

**Anyway, this is part of my family series, where Tony and Ziva are parents to two children.**

**Also: I have one more story that I wrote for Bree (if you remember, the stories are what I've posted ad chapters so far), so after that I'm switching to the stories I wrote for Mathilde :D nothing too complicated; it's just a slightly different format.**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Pony<strong>

"No." Ziva shook her head emphatically. "That is not a good idea."

"Why not? I mean he's offering it to us cheap, and Lila wants one." Tony looked from the letter from Ziva's uncle in his hands to Ziva, frowning.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "You don't have to get Lila everything she wants."

"I don't get her _everything _she wants. See I didn't buy her that box of ice-cream the other day 'cause you said she finished the last one in a week. But she'd really love a pony."

"It's not a puppy, Tony."

"She doesn't want a puppy. She wants a pony."

"Yes, but are you serious? A pony takes time and money to _raise_. We'd need to rent a stable for him, and then there's food and training … it's not just the pony himself." She sighed. "I would like to be able to afford sending them both to college."

"True," Tony said glumly, and then tapped his chin in thought. "Maybe if she went to college, she could get a good job and then buy her own pony."

Ziva laughed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Are there ever days when you wish you'd worked harder so that you could buy them the world?"

Tony paused and took in his wife's downcast profile. He held out his arms and slowly drew her in, rubbing her cheekbone gently. "Yeah. Some days I wonder how things would be if I were still working. But we both know, Zi, what it's like to grow up without parents there. Maybe other families can do the dual-wage-earner thingy but we can't, not with our jobs; and you know what? That's fine. This is _our _family. We're doing the best we know how to for _our_ daughter and son, and that's the most important thing."

She looked up at him. "What if it's not good enough?"

"It is," he told her firmly. "Because we're raising them on love."

She smiled and pressed her face into the curve of his neck. "So what do we get Lila for her birthday instead?" she mumbled against his skin.

He thought about it. "Well, y'know, there're always pony rides."

"At the stables."

"Yeah. We can afford those, right?"

She lifted her head, and this time she was smiling. "Yes."

"I think she would like that." He grinned, and Ziva grinned back.

"You are a _miracle worker,_ Tony DiNozzo."


	11. Part I: Sewing Lesson

**I meant to post this at an earlier hour, but I forgot, haha.**

**Anyway, I just wanted to get this done with ... next chapter onwards, the stories will be longer and in past tense rather than present. It's not too confusing, hopefully; just different. This whole story is an odd collection of little scenes, lol!**

**Enjoy; please review at the end!**

**-S_oph_**

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><p><strong>Sewing Lesson<strong>

"How could a grown man like you not know this?" Ziva grumbles as she bends down behind Tony and holds both of his hands in hers.

"Why would I know it? I have a tailor."

She rolls her eyes at him. "So you mean that each time you lose a button, you give your shirt to your tailor?"

"… Yes."

"Why don't you learn to do things by yourself?"

"I do a lot of things by myself! Sewing just isn't one of them."

She gives him a sceptical glance, and then sighs. "Okay. Look, it's really simple. The thread is in the needle. To make a knot, you just loop the end of the thread around the needle, a few times, like this, and then pinch it and pull." She guides his hands as she explains it to him, and his wonder when a knot forms is almost child-like in nature.

"Thank you, Ziva."

"You're welcome. Now we're gonna sew the button onto the shirt." She gathers his shirt and button, and guides him through the process. In no time at all, the button is firmly attached to the cloth, and she, having spent the entire five minutes bent over him and holding onto his hands, suddenly finds herself extremely unwilling to let go of him.

"You know, I think maybe I should just get you to sew on my buttons," he says, seemingly oblivious to the way she is tilting her head to take in his scent as inconspicuously as possible.

"You wish."

He shifts so he can look back at her. "Hey, I said I'd do all your plumbing. Least you could do is say the same for my sewing."

"I would, but you lose buttons more often than my sink breaks."

He shrugs. "Plumbing is harder."

She makes a _tch _noise against his cheek. "Fine. But I do not guarantee I won't sew flower motifs onto your shirts."

"You don't even like flower motifs."

"That's true. But it's a good way to make sure that you lose as few buttons as possible."

He pouts, and she very nearly leans in to kiss him. "Not really a helpful soul, are you?"

She shakes her head. "Nope."

He thinks about it. "Guess I can live with that. Why are you still holding onto my hands?"

She lets go as if burnt and prays that her face doesn't look too guilty. "I thought you still needed my help."

He looks at her quizzically, and she watches as what she fervently hopes isn't realization slowly dawns on his face. "You know what? I've changed my mind."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I think it wouldn't hurt to have a few lessons from you. Y'know, if you don't mind." She furrows her brows and tries to determine if he's just stringing her along. "Do you?"

She hesitates for a beat. "No. I don't mind."

He beams. "Good. So I've got this other shirt…"

She laughs and pulls a chair up to sit beside him as she listens to his dilemma, and she finds that she _does _quite like teaching Tony DiNozzo to sew, after all.


	12. Part II: Crackers

**HI, I'M BACK. Well, I didn't really go anywhere, and the last bit of work that I posted was actually like, two days ago, but I haven't posted for this fic for a while. And I'm sounding like Abby right now, so I'll stop.**

**Okay. So I'm a little more organized for this second section! I divided the stories into three types; T/Z friendship, established Tiva, and Tiva-family (which would be Lila and Ben, my _only _existing Tiva children). This first part is T/Z friendship :P it's easy enough!**

**Enjoy!**

**And remember, I don't own NCIS :P**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Crackers<strong>

Ziva wrinkled her nose in disgust as she watched Tony spread more chocolate onto a cracker.

"Do you not even find that strange?" she questioned with intrigued repulsion.

He took a bite. "Whysit weird?" he asked through a mouthful of cracker. "It's just chocolate. Chocolate is delicious."

"I agree, but not on a cracker."

"The sweet and salty tas—"

"Hey!" she cried in indignation. "You spit on me."

He swallowed. "I did not!"

"_Yes, _you did." She glared at him and lifted her arm as evidence, showing him the fleck of cracker that had landed on her as a result of his talking while eating. "_Wipe it off._ I don't want your spit on me."

"Fine." Rolling his eyes, he brought up the hem of his shirt and wiped at her forearm. She made a face.

"You are disgusting."

"Well, then, next time, _don't _replace popcorn with _crackers _for Movie Night. Who eats crackers while watching movies, anyway?"

"They are healthier than popcorn," she answered, defiantly grabbing a cracker from the bowl that sat on the coffee table.

"It's not about the healthiness, Ziva. It's about the tradition. Movies. Popcorn. Popcorn. Movies. No one ever breaks the tradition and brings in something like _crackers. _That's like wearing white after Labour Day!"

Ziva stared at him in amusement, the corners of her lips twitching. "You sound like a girl right now."

"Hey!" He pouted, hurt. "That's low, Ziva."

"It is true! Chocolate on crackers and white after Labour Day. The next thing I know, you will be inviting me to sleepovers with teddy bears and mani-pedi treatments."

"Okay, that's something _Abby _would do. With McGee. Even you, Ziva, are too manly for a mani-pedi."

She laughed out loud at that. "How would you know?"

"I just know." He grabbed her hand suddenly and showed it to her, as if she would be unfamiliar with the back of her own hand. "See? Nicely cut nails, but no polish, and cuticles are still there. No manicure. Now lemme see your feet."

"No."

"Lemme see!" he insisted. "I wanna see if you get pedicures."

"You just said I do not, Tony. And why are you so interested in whether I get pedicures?" She tilted her head.

"Just to prove a point. My point is that we don't do mani-pedis, Ziva, we do Movie Nights. With _popcorn._"

"_Fine,_" she answered to shut him up. "I will prepare popcorn the next time you come over for Movie Nights."

"Thank you," he graciously said, turning back to the TV and picking up another cracker to spread chocolate on. Shaking her head, she bit into her own plain cracker.

"Okay, I'm really curious," he said after a moment of silence.

"About what?"

"Do you get pedicures?"

She grinned. "I believe the saying is, 'That's for me to know and you to find out,' yes?"


	13. Part II: Waterbed

**Greetings, folks! I'm in the UK now :D it's nice. And that's not relevant to anything. I'm just ... saying, lol.**

**Enjoy; please review! This is not one of my favourite drabbles, but I hope y'all like it, anyway :D**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Waterbed<strong>

It was going to be a good day; Tony could feel it in his bones as he stepped into the bullpen, humming his favourite tune and dropping his backpack to the floor. He slipped into his chair and gave Ziva the brightest grin he could muster.

"Good morning," he drawled at her.

Across the bullpen, she shot him a look that seemed rather annoyed. "Did you have a good night last night, Tony?"

"That I did. You wanna know why?"

"Not really," she answered as she returned to her work, but he was not deterred.

"_Waterbed!_" he crowed, eager to let the world know about his latest acquisition. "It's awesome. Does wonders for my back."

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. "A waterbed?"

"Yup. Soft-side and wave-less. It even heats itself." He leant back into his chair with a sigh of satisfaction, remembering the previous night with happiness that was dimmed only when Gibbs strode into the bullpen and started telling them about dead bodies.

xoxo

Tony knew a pee break from the usual Movie Night had been a bad idea when he stepped into his living room to find it devoid of Ziva. He called her name, and she answered from what sounded alarmingly like his bedroom. Sure enough, he stepped in and found her spread out on his brand new waterbed with a smile on her face.

"This _is _comfortable," she told him agreeably, and he briefly entertained the idea of going over and dragging her off by the ankles.

Instead, he settled for asking in exasperation, "What are you doing on my bed?"

"Trying it out," she replied without batting an eyelash. "You said it was awesome, yes?"

"Yeah, but I think I was implying that you should get your own."

"This is quicker." She lifted her head and looked at him. "Are you going to join me?"

"Excuse me?" he spluttered.

"Well, you can either go finish your movie or join me, but I am not getting off this bed."

"Yeah, you are. And _we're _gonna finish the movie."

She pouted, but made no move except to roll onto her side. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Get off the bed, Ziva."

"I think I know what I want for Chanukah," she said conversationally, and he gave her a long, drawn-out sigh.

"I'm not getting you a waterbed for Chanukah."

"Then I'm not getting off."

"So, what, you're gonna make yourself a permanent fixture on my bed?"

Her eyes twinkled. "I did not think that would be such a problem for you."

"Alright, that's it." He stalked over to her and scooped her up, one arm around her back and another under her knees. She squirmed, shrieking with laughter as he lifted her towards the bedroom door.

"Tony, what are you doing?"

"Removing you from my bed," he answered calmly as she squirmed even more.

"Put me down before I hurt you."

"Nope." He held her even closer, despite the fact that she was now looking as if she were trying to decide where better to pinch him into putting her down. Into the living room he carried her and down onto the couch she went, and a smack was delivered to his arm as he sat down beside her.

"Don't do that again," she warned him, even though her eyes sort of sparkled.

He grinned and threw her words back at her. "What, carrying you? I didn't think that'd be such a problem for you."


	14. Part II: Fear

**Fear**

A sudden slamming noise made Ziva jump and look up from her work to frown at Tony, the only other occupant of the dimly lit bullpen, who was currently out of the chair he had backed into the shelves behind him and staring in horror at his desk.

"What is wrong?" she asked impatiently; two hours after everyone had left, she still wasn't any closer to getting her paperwork done. She rubbed her temples as his wide eyes met hers.

"Um … um…"

"You are sounding like McGee when he has something bad to tell Gibbs."

"It was nothing. Can I finish my paperwork at your desk?"

"Why?"

"I'm kinda lonely waaayover here…"

She eyed him sceptically. "Firstly, if you really _were _lonely, you would not be admitting it. Secondly, I do not believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because you're still staring at your desk nervously."

"… Oh."

He looked at a loss for words, but still unwilling to sit down, so she sighed and cleared a space at her desk for him. "Come here."

He smiled weakly and snatched his paperwork off his desk with a quick motion. "Thanks." Marching himself and his chair over, he slid in beside her to get to work. She wasn't so easily deterred from the truth, though.

"What's on your desk?"

"Um, iwasasmrr," he mumbled sheepishly.

"What?"

"Smrr."

"Tony, speak properly," she snapped, feeling her impatience come back. "I cannot understand you."

"_Spider,_ okay," he answered reluctantly. "It was a spider."

She gaped at him, feeling close to laughing for the first time that night. "A spider? You are afraid of a spider?"

"It was big," he said defensively. "With long legs. It was a creepy spider."

She chortled. "Okay. But what are you going to do if it's still there tomorrow?"

"I don't know. Ask Gibbs to kill it with that infamous glare of his?"

"Like you'd admit to him that you have a fear of spiders."

"I don't have a fear of _spiders,_" he said in exasperation. "I have a fear of … big spiders."

"It's the same thing."

"Thank you. You're really helpful to the ego."

She couldn't hold back her laughter this time. "I think your ego was ruined when you asked if you could work at my desk because a spider scared you."

"Okay, that's it. I'm going back." He dropped his pen and stood up, preparing to return to his desk.

"What about the spider?" she asked.

"I'll just risk it. I'm a man. Men don't get scared by spiders. Hrrrmph." He thumped his chest in a gesture that she thought was probably meant to make him resemble Tarzan, and then picked up his paperwork and very hesitantly crossed the bullpen.

Her heart softened. "Tony," she said quietly, patting the chair he had left behind. "It's okay. I will not tease you about the spider anymore."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Yeah, you will. The moment I sit down in that chair, you'll start talking to me about Black Widows or something."

She shook her head. "I will not. I promise."

Watching her suspiciously for a while more, he returned to her and sat down in his chair. "Thanks."

"Mmhmm."

They worked in silence for a while, but she could sense his distractedness, as if he were still thinking about the spider. She looked up at him to find him sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye, so she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

He sighed and put down his pen. "You wouldn't happen to be afraid of spiders, would you?"

"No, I'm not. I encountered many spiders in the safe houses I stayed in during Mossad assignments, and I've gotten used to them."

"… Can I ask a favour of you?"

"Yes?"

"I don't suppose you'd mind helping me get rid of the spider?"

* * *

><p><strong>Please review! And for those who are interested, I'll probably be going back to working on <em>Tapestry <em>instead of new one-shots next. If I can keep to my resolution. Poor _Tapestry _:( I think I neglected it for my other fics. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :P**

**-_Soph_**


	15. Part II: Skirt

**Yea, I know I said I'll work on _Tapestry. _I am! There's a chapter halfway done :P I just thought I'd update this first.**

**Also, I _am _aware that this series is at times, OOC, but it'd seemed in character to me when I first posted it on Tumblr, and I am re-posting it here with minimal changes. So, yea. Hehe :/**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Skirt<strong>

"Does my butt look big in this?"

Tony's head snapped up at the question, his mouth falling open. Ziva. _Ziva, _of all people, was asking him this.

Wasn't it bad enough that she'd dragged him out to the mall and made him wait for her outside the dressing room of the first women's clothing store she came upon?

When did Ziva ever shop for clothes, anyway?

"Tony," she said sharply, and he blinked before realizing that his eyes had been fixed—albeit, whether one believed it or not, unintentionally—on her posterior for the past ten seconds.

"Um … should you be asking that question?"

"Why?" she asked in confusion.

"I don't know. That's just such a _womanly_ question to ask."

"I am a woman."

"Not a normal one." He realized his mistake and backpedalled before her eyes could do more than narrow. "I mean, you are. A normal one, that is. But you don't usually ask such questions."

"How would you know? You have never come shopping with me."

"Yeah, that's another thing. Why _are _we shopping?"

"I need a new suit; my old one is getting … old. I always have at least one suit in my wardrobe for emergencies. Does this skirt make my butt look big?"

He looked again. "No, it's perfectly shaped." Her eyes widened fractionally. "Cut. It's perfectly cut. Y'know, it fits well … okay, are you making this hard for me on purpose?"

"I asked a simple question."

"There's no simple answer!" he groused. "I'd either be saying your butt was too big or that the skirt wasn't … emphasising it enough."

"So now you are saying that my butt is adequately big and that the skirt should emphasise it?"

"Um…" He paused to search for the most politically correct answer. "No, I'm saying that your butt is very rightly sized and that it is one of your assets, and should therefore be … accentuated with the perfect skirt."

She smirked. "Good save."

"Thanks."

She looked down uncertainly. "What do you think of this skirt, then?"

"I don't know, Zi," he said in exasperation. "It's black. They're all black. Just pick one."

She somehow managed to glare at him and look grumpy all at the same time. "You were the one who said that my _asset _should be 'accentuated with the perfect skirt.'"

He sighed, regretting his words. "Okay. Not this one. Good, but not good enough."

"Oh." She gave it one last uncertain look before walking back into the dressing room.

xoxo

Three tries later, they found the right one; it was with relief that he accompanied her to the cashier's and watched her pay for her purchases.

They found a café to lunch in, and midway through the first bite of his burger, he figured out what had been bugging him the whole time. "Why aren't you getting Abby to do this with you?"

He knew he had asked the right question when her facial expression didn't change despite the faint blush that was creeping steadily up her cheeks. "Abby was busy."

"Really? What was she busy with?"

"_Things,_" Ziva answered defensively, but he kept his eyes on her until she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Okay! I just … wanted to know what you thought."

"Huh." He took another bite of his burger in amusement. "So, my opinion's that important to you?"

"Chew with your mouth _closed,_" she directed him, hand gestures and all.

He chuckled and obliged, satisfied now that he had gotten his answer.

Hey, if she wanted him to go on an errand that permitted him to ogle her at regular and repeated intervals of time without any censure, then he'd happily do it.


	16. Part II: Couch

**Couch**

"_Oomph,_" a cry escaped Ziva's lips as she sat down on Tony's couch and suddenly sank a few inches. She glared at the couch in annoyance. "Tony, this has been happening for months. You need to change your couch."

He shot her a nonchalant look and lazily held out the popcorn bowl to her. "What? It's comfy. Look, there's a dent the shape of your ass. It's proof of how much time you spend here."

She rolled her eyes and snatched the popcorn bowl from him. "This is precisely the reason that you need a new couch. If you are a good host, you would not let your visitors sit on a couch that _sags_, yes?"

"You're not a visitor. You're just … Ziva."

"Oh," she huffed. "You take it for granted that I will come over for Movie Nights. I tell you, Tony, that I could very well go home and refuse to sit on your saggy couch."

"We could always go to your place and watch movies there…?" Tony asked hopefully.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so reluctant to change your couch? Do you not have the money, Tony?"

He pouted. "I do, but I'm attached to this couch! This is where I spend most of my time … with my movies … _Bond … Indiana Jones … _and of course the oh-so-famous _Body Heat, _starring William Hurt and Kathleen Turner…"

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I do not want to know what you do on this couch."

"I'm just saying, Ziva, this couch has been with me since I first moved in. It knows all my secrets, highs and lows, favourite movies, and favourite people to have around. It's also my buddy on weekend chill-out marathon movie sessions. It's like a faithful puppy. I'm fond of it."

"It is a couch."

Tony scowled. "You don't get the concept of 'attachment,' do you?"

"Not to inanimate objects, no," Ziva replied smoothly. "It is old, stained, and about to fall apart at the seams."

"Don't talk about it like that!" he protested indignantly.

She sighed and then closed her eyes, willing her patience back. "Tony, it will eventually fall apart, anyway. Why not just get a new couch now?"

He jutted out his bottom lip, patting a cushion sadly. "Fine. I'll get a new couch. Coming with me on Saturday?"

"Where to?" she asked, puzzled by the sudden change in topic.

"Couch-buying."

"You want me to help you pick out a new couch?"

"Yeah, well, you're the one around most often, anyway. Apart from me, that is."

"Hmm." She furrowed her eyebrows, but decided to agree to his request. "Okay, I will go with you."

"Thanks. In the meantime…" Tony put on his most dramatic air. "I will spend its last days on it all the time, leaving it only for work and pee breaks."

She rolled her eyes again, grabbing a handful of popcorn before returning to him the bowl. "You are such a child, Tony."

* * *

><p><strong>I rather like this one :P<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading; please review!**

**-_Soph_**


	17. Part II: Candle

**Candle**

"I hate candles," she muttered glumly as a tiny light flared to life, moving downwards until it touched the tip of a wax candle.

She could see shadows dancing on the walls now; she shifted subtly closer to the source of light, and Tony chuckled before going to settle down by her side. She jumped when his elbow banged into her.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, and in the dimness of the room she could see his lips turn into half a pout.

"Jesus, Zi! It was an accident! Easily spooked in the dark, aren't we?"

She rested her chin on her knees and refused to dignify such a question with an answer.

"Okay, we gotta do something while we wait for the lights to come back on," he babbled happily. "'Cause the whole building's out and the whole street's out, and I guess that means the whole neighbourhood's out, and it could be forever before they get the lights back up again."

She stayed silent.

"Cards?" he suggested hopefully.

"You cannot even see your fingers, Tony, let alone cards."

"Oh. Twenty Questions?"

"No."

"So what d'you suggest, we just sit here and wait for the sun to come up?" She didn't bother replying to him, so he continued, "Zi, I'm gonna touch you now, so please don't ninja my arms off."

Before she could ask him _why the hell _he was going to touch her, she felt an arm go around her waist and gently pull her towards him. A second later, she was tucked neatly into his side with her head resting against his shoulder, and because her heart was starting to skip a few beats, she decided some deflection would be good.

"You should get a flashlight."

"Nah," he answered. "Never really had use for them at home."

"They would be good for situations like this one."

"Yeah, but this happens once in a blue moon, so I usually just sit back and wait it out."

"Then what do you need candles for?"

"_Mood lighting, baby_." His voice sounded as if a DiNozzo grin had accompanied it, so she smacked his chest for good measure. He whimpered. "What was that for?"

"I felt like it."

"Oh, no. You don't get to smack the man who's wasting a perfectly good candle on you just so you'd stopped complaining about how you can't see anything at all. And by the way, what's up with you and the darkness? I didn't even know you had an issue with it."

She chewed on her lip. "I do not have an issue with _any _kind of darkness; just total darkness."

"Well, _why?_" he asked with exaggerated patience.

"It reminds me of horror movies where the lights go off just before the ghost appears," she confessed sullenly, and true to form, he started cackling gleefully.

"Little Miss Former Assassin afraid of a few itsy-bitsy ghosts?" She smacked his chest again, he whimpered again. "You gotta stop making a habit out of this," he gasped out.

"Do not mock me, or I will tell McGee about your secret fear of castration."

"I don't have a fear of castration."

"_Really?_" she asked, injecting just the right amount of menacing eagerness into her voice, and she swore she heard him grimace.

"I don't think any man wouldn't be afraid if you asked it in a tone like that."

She chuckled. "There is a reason this threat works."

"_Aaand _three points to Special Agent David for getting me off-topic, but getting back to the point here: You're really afraid of ghosts?"

"They are the one thing I can't kill," she pointed out, and his chest rumbled with the beginnings of laughter before he wisely stifled it.

"Well, they do have ghost busters, but since neither of us is one, I guess we'll have to settle for the traditional way of doing things."

"Which is?"

"Telling childhood stories as a way of distracting you."'

"They are not ghost stories, are they?" she asked warily.

"No. You can start, if you like; that way you can check your stories for ghosts."

Grumbling, she ran her bank of childhood memories through her mind, trying to pick the perfect story.

xoxo

By the time it was his turn to tell his third story, she found herself growing sleepy against him.

xoxo

When she opened her eyes to daylight, she found them on the floor with his back partially slumped against the couch and herself slumped against him.

It seemed as if he had kept the ghosts away from her, after all.


	18. Part II: Sweatshirt

**Okay, this is one of those that might be OOC :P to be fair, most of what I wrote for this series was written late at night with my eyes half-closed and my head in the "one more thing before I go to bed" space. So... I mean, I try to edit it back into character, but you should really just be surprised there aren't purple elephants in any of the chapters :/**

**Next up on Sophie's fanfiction production line: A new chapter to my fic _Tapestry._**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Sweatshirt<strong>

"Take it off."

"No."

"Take it off!" Tony insisted, stomping over to stand in front of her.

"No!" Ziva pouted, hugging Tony's OSU sweatshirt closer to her body. "I'm cold."

"Well, I have a gigantic coat by the door if you're cold," he answered in exasperation. "Why d'you have to be wearing my sweatshirt?"

"It was the easiest thing to reach for," she replied sullenly.

He threw his hands up with an angry sigh. "Seriously, you don't see anything wrong with just picking my clothes up off the back of the couch and putting them on?"

"Are you not willing to share, Tony?" she challenged, lifting her chin.

"That's not the poi—okay, actually, it is. It's kinda disturbing that you just come into my apartment and start putting my clothes on."

"I have been here for three hours. Besides, it is not as if I ransacked your wardrobe and put on your favourite shirt. I am just cold."

"Well, why didn't you ask me to turn up the heat?"

"You were in the bathroom!"

"I was in there for all of five minutes," he grumbled, and then looked at her suspiciously. "You just want to put on my sweatshirt."

She made a face, trying not to show him how close to the truth he was. "I do not. I _told _you, I am just lazy to get off the couch."

"Actually, you said the sweatshirt was the easiest to reach for. And if I go and turn up the thermostat, will you take it off?"

She sighed. "Why will you not just let me wear it?"

"Uh, I don't know, Ziva. Maybe because the last time I checked, we haven't acquired the habit of sharing _clothes_ without permission?"

"Selfish," she grumbled, reluctantly pulling the sweatshirt off and returning it to him. "There."

"Thank you." He took it back and balled it up, and then stilled. Holding it up to his nose, he sniffed it tentatively. "Euh _god _Ziva, it smells like you now."

She glared at him. "You say it like I smell bad."

He held his hands up in an appeasing manner. "Never said that, but I really don't want my sweatshirt to smell like you."

"Fine," she huffed, pretending his words didn't hurt her. She held her hand out. "Give it to me. I will wash it by hand and make sure it has no traces of my _smell _before I return it to you."

His eyes widened with surprise at her tone, and he stepped around her to sit down on the couch. "Hey," he said softly, nudging her when she ignored him. "Are you pissed?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "No, Tony. I am not pissed that you just told me I smell bad."

"That was not what I said."

"Then why—" she started, but stopped when she found that there was no way she could ask this question without sounding absolutely insane. "Never mind."

"It's my home, Zi. My things. I don't really like other people touching them."

She averted her eyes. "Okay."

He held the sweatshirt out. "You want it back?"

She shook her head. "No. I am not cold anymore." It was true, technically—the humiliation made her cheeks burn red hot.

She jumped when he touched the side of her head, and then realized that he was trying to pull the sweatshirt over her. Pushing against his hand, she stopped him. "I don't want it," she said as firmly as she could.

He brushed her hair back from her face. "I want you to have it."

"_Why?_"

He shrugged and smiled weakly. "It already smells like you, anyway. _And,_" he added hurriedly as she tried to push him away, "and if anyone were to invade my space, I suppose you'd be a good choice."

"Thanks," she said coldly.

"No, it's true. Kickass ninja who smells like roses—who wouldn't want that?"

She stared at him then; at the green eyes which were peering so worriedly and apologetically at her. She opened her mouth to utter the most caustic retort she could come up with, but to her surprise, all that came out was a rather plaintive, "I don't smell like roses."

His chuckle was stifled by the tears which sprung up against her will. He reached out his hand and ran his thumb through her lashes, his fingers scorching her where he touched her face. "It's a saying, Zi. It means you smell really good."

"Liar."

"No, I'm not. Look, obviously I want my things to smell like myself, but…" He paused, looking at a loss for words, and then continued putting his sweatshirt onto her. This time, she let him. Sliding both of her arms through the sweatshirt's sleeves, he smoothed it down around her waist. "It looks good on you."

"_Liar,_" she snarled.

"Oh, nonono." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ignored her resistance, drawing her to his side. "Hot woman in my clothes. Very 'morning after,' which is always fun."

She peered down, picked at hem of the soft material. "So how many women have worn this?"

"None. Unless you count as a woman."

"I do," she said, the sharp edge to her voice warning him not to make her angrier than she already was.

"Oh, well. Just you, then."

She resisted the urge to punch him really hard and looked up at him instead. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Nah." He leant forward to pick up the remote, resuming the movie that he'd paused for his toilet break, and then settled back against the couch and wrapped his arm even more tightly around her. "Of all the women I could have 'morning after' with."

He didn't finish his sentence, so she was left to try and decipher what he meant. Her eyes widened and her head shot up when she thought she may've understood, but he was completely engrossed in the movie by then. She sighed deeply and rested her head against his shoulder.

He drove her crazy _every day_, and she wasn't even sure he hadn't just been playing with her heart. But somehow, she still desperately wanted that chance with him.


	19. Part II: Wine

**To the Guest who reviewed in the previous chapter: For now, it's not established Tiva :P I wouldn't go so far as to say it was canon Tiva, though, because there are probably many differing views on how far along to becoming a romantic couple Tony and Ziva are. Let's just say Ziva was fast losing the fight in the previous chapter, hehe. Thank you for your review!**

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Wine<strong>

It was the last bottle of _Pinot noir _on the shelf.

Ziva breathed out a sigh of relief, glad that she would have something to serve her guests for dinner. She reached out to take the bottle, only to find her attempt blocked by something that very much resembled Tony's hand.

Eyes narrowing, she looked to her right. A charmer's grin met her gaze; her heart skipped a few beats before she registered his words, "Oh _nonono. _I need that bottle of wine."

When she finally comprehended that he was the only obstruction between her and the wine, her eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction more. "_Why?_"

"For drinking," he answered smoothly. "I think that's what people usually do with wine."

"You are drinking it all by yourself?"

"What if I had company?"

She snorted. "Another lady friend, Tony?"

"She does love a good bottle of _Pinot noir_…" he said dreamily.

Ziva withdrew her hand, feeling as if she'd been burnt. "She has good taste."

"She does." He grinned and took the bottle of wine. "So, this is mine, then?"

She opened her mouth to argue, but found that all the fight had left her at the knowledge that Tony would be sharing a bottle of her favourite wine with another woman (and one who seemed to leave him dreamy) that night.

She set her face into a disgruntled expression. "I will just serve my guests something else."

He raised his eyebrows. "Guests?"

"My neighbours." She paused. "I will see you on Monday, Tony. Have fun with your lady friend."

She turned away and disappeared between the shelves in search of another bottle of wine before he could say anything.

xoxo

Sunday afternoon found Ziva elbow-deep in flour and cookie-baking when her cell phone rang. Grumbling, she wiped clean one of her hands on her apron and answered the phone.

"What?" she snapped, having first checked Caller ID.

"Geez! You could at least sound like you wanted to talk to me," Tony's voice protested.

"I'm baking cookies."

"Oh." Silence. "Any chance you'll be done in the next two hours?"

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"I was thinking of doing dinner and Movie Night. Got the _Sound of Music,_" he said ingratiatingly, and that took away enough of her irritation to make her laugh.

"Fine. I will be there in three hours."

"Got it. Oh, Ziva?"

"Yes."

"Any chance I can get you to bring along some of those cookies?"

She quirked an eyebrow and asked teasingly, "Is that what we are having for dinner?"

"No, I've got it all planned out. But your cookies would make an awesome addition."

"I will bring some."

"Thanks."

xoxo

True to her word, she was at his front door with a box of cookies exactly three hours later. She pressed the doorbell; he answered mere seconds later, and she handed him the cookies unceremoniously. She had her coat off and herself a few steps into his apartment before she froze and realized what was wrong—it was too dark in the hallway.

And not only was it too dark; a candle appeared to be the sole source of lighting in his hallway. It sat in the middle of a cloth-covered, food-laden table, and looked altogether too innocent to be a participant of what seemed like a devious plan. She arched an eyebrow in his direction.

He grinned and flipped the light switch, flooding the place with light. "Just wanted to see what you'd say if I told you it was a candlelight dinner."

"You did not _tell _me," she pointed out.

"I showed you. Ah, po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Sit." She sat. "Just a moment."

He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and reappeared with a bottle of wine. _Her Pinot noir_.

"Did your lady friend cancel on you?" she asked, suddenly wondering if he was crazy enough to simply replace whichever woman he couldn't have with her.

"Nah." He uncorked the wine and poured some into her glass. "Never had a lady friend. Just you. But of course, we can all agree that you're not much of a lady."

She made a face at him. "Why did you lie?"

"I got the bottle of wine, didn't I?" He poured himself a glass.

"Oh, that was low."

Tony chuckled and sat down, placing the bottle on the table. "Okay, so it wasn't the most gentlemanly thing to do. But at least I'm not serving you orange juice or something right now."

She thought about it. "That is true. Okay, you are forgiven. But only if we are really watching the _Sound of Music_."

"Yeah, we are. Along with _cookies _and popcorn." He rubbed his hands with glee, beaming at her. "Dig in!"


	20. Part II: Keys

**Alright, people! We've moved into established Tiva territory :P don't worry, you didn't miss anything. Remember, _these are just a collection of Tiva drabbles. Unless I say otherwise, they are completely unrelated and not pinned to a certain timeline. _And with that, please just pretend that they're together already :P**

**Enjoy! And please review at the end, even if the little review box is sometimes inconvenient.**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Keys<strong>

"That is strange," Ziva murmured, studying her bunch of keys she had just picked up from the coffee table with a frown.

Tony looked up from the last vestiges of the popcorn he was finishing off. "What is it?"

"Something is different." She counted and picked out two keys, holding them up for Tony to see. "Did you put these on?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Guess."

She snorted. "You are not very good at giving riddles. Why are you giving me keys?"

"You're not very good at figuring out riddles. You really don't know why I'm giving you keys?"

She opened her mouth to give a flippant reply, but paused with a gasp as a thought hit her with all the force of a sledgehammer. He looked knowingly at her. "Are these … keys to your apartment?" she asked hesitantly.

"You can try them out on the front door," he answered with another grin.

She moved to do as he said, but stopped short and fiddled worriedly with the keys in her hand.

"Something wrong?" he asked, and she heard a note of anxiety in his voice.

"No. It is just … this is a big step, Tony."

"Is this a step you want or don't want to take?" he questioned slowly.

"I want it," she answered, lifting her eyes to his in order to assure him of her conviction. "I want this very much. But … I am scared."

He appeared to mull that over, taking several seconds to reply. "I wasn't too sure about giving you the keys either," he admitted. "I mean, you can pick my lock an' all, but this is different."

She nodded her understanding.

"But we can only progress or regress, and I don't want to regress, Ziva."

"We could stay the way we are."

"Is that what you want?"

She rubbed a thumb over the shiny metal as she thought that over. "No," she finally decided. "I don't want that at all."

"Then take the keys," he said, closing her fingers over the keys and pushing them gently towards her. "Please. You don't have to use them if you don't want to."

Moving the keys onto one hand, she twisted her wrist so that she could thread her fingers in between his. "Tony, if I used these keys … I would only be coming to an empty apartment without you in it."

He chuckled. "Yeah, but it means I trust you enough to let you sneak around without me here."

"You have long resigned yourself to the fact that I am capable of doing it anyway."

"At least you have my permission now," he replied, shrugging, and that made her laugh. She bit her lip and finally smiled.

"Thank you."

She wondered at the thrilled expression which made his eyes twinkle, but hardly had time to wonder beyond that before his lips were on hers.


	21. Part II: Ice Candy

**So, I have an assignment due on Sunday night, a report due on Monday afternoon, two fics in the works ... and I'm still updating this :/ I'm ... I'm not very good at staying away from fanfiction, am I? D:**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Ice Candy<strong>

A grumbling sound preceded Tony's appearance in the kitchen, and Ziva looked up to see him wandering in with a rather sulky expression that didn't fit his dark blue bathrobe and mussed-up hair.

"You woke me up with the blender," he complained, and she laughed and went over to give him an apologetic kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry, but I forgot that I promised to make something for Abby to take to the children's shelter."

"What are you making?" He peered over her head, momentarily distracted by the odd assortment of ingredients on his kitchen counter—grapes, oranges, strawberries, cocoa powder, fresh milk, condensed milk, cream, and sugar. "Smoothies?"

"No. Ice candy." She went back to the blender, and he followed her.

"What, you're gonna freeze all of that into ice?" he asked, staring at the ingredients in the blender with disbelief.

"Yes."

"Is that nice?"

She smiled. "Very. Hold this." She handed him a bowl and a funnel with an ice candy plastic bag over its spout.

Detaching the blender jar from its base, she scooped the mixture slowly into the funnel. He watched the entire process with fascination.

"So it's gonna be a frozen stick of candy?"

"Yes," she said again, and elaborated, "It is like fruit juice, except frozen. I had the opportunity to try some while I was in the Philippines on a mission. When I got back to Israel, I learnt from a website how to make it."

"Ooh." He gave her his best puppy-dog-eyed expression. "Can I try some?"

"It's for the children."

"_Pleaaase…_"

She shook her head in amusement and put the blender down to knot the opening of the ice candy plastic bag. "If you help me make the rest, I will let you keep two sticks."

He grabbed another plastic bag in enthusiasm.

xoxo

After sending Abby off with the goodies in tow, Ziva returned to the kitchen to find Tony with his head in the freezer. He had managed to convince her to let him keep one of each of the four flavours and was now, apparently, trying to decide which to pick.

"What do you want? Chocolate, strawberry, grape, or orange?" he asked over his shoulder as she sat down, and she raised her eyebrows.

"I thought you wanted them all."

He turned around to pout at her. "I was thinking of sharing it with you."

She snorted. "How charitable."

"Zee-vahhh…" he whined, and she rolled her eyes.

"Pick whichever you want. I will share it with you."

Grabbing the orange-flavoured one, he shut the freezer door and trotted happily over to the kitchen table. He grinned brightly and tried to unknot the plastic bag. A minute's efforts left him unsuccessful, so she sighed and took it from him.

His grin brightened when she handed him the opened plastic bag, and she had to shake her head again, reaching over to tousle his hair fondly. "You are such a child sometimes."

He only held the ice candy out to her. "Want some?"

Chuckling, she stretched over the kitchen table and took a bite of the candy. "Thank you."

He flashed a bit of teeth at her and took his own bite. "It's nice," he announced. "I like it. You make good candy."


	22. Part II: Pillow

**In case anyone's wondering, I got both of my assignments done on time :D and had a consultation with my dissertation supervisor. And published a one-shot. And am halfway through writing another one. And managed to fit in a visit to Lake District between all of that XD I feel accomplished!**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Pillow<strong>

"Tony, go 'way," Ziva slurred and swatted weakly at Tony, trying to get him to leave.

He only moved the bowl of porridge closer, making her want to hurl. "C'mon, Zi. You gotta eat something. You skipped breakfast and threw up supper last night, and you can't survive on just sleep. You have to eat something if you want to get better!"

She retched at the idea. "Still feel like th'owing up."

"Bucket's here. And you still gotta try and get something in your stomach."

"Mmm," she mumbled and pressed her face into the pillow.

She heard a clink that sounded like him putting the bowl down onto the bedside table, and then felt something that was his hand brushing her hair from her face. His lips were pressed to her hot skin.

"You're worrying me here," he murmured.

"Go watch TV," she ordered weakly, feeling her eyelids grow heavy with sleep. "Don't worry, 'm fine."

As darkness flooded her senses again, she heard a sigh and thought she felt his presence leave the room. It saddened her a little, even though she'd asked him to leave. She kind of liked having him around for comfort if he kept quiet.

She'd barely started getting the sleep she needed when she felt his hand on her skin again, tapping her arm repeatedly and trying to get her to wake up.

"Grrrmph," she mumbled with irritation, even though she couldn't find the strength to shake off his hand.

"Ziva, get up. I've soup this time; you can practically sip it with a straw. You won't even have to chew anything."

"Mmm," she answered again, not bothering to open her eyes.

The mattress shifted, and the next thing she knew, she was being held up at a slanted angle as he eased himself beneath her onto the bed. Suddenly she found herself partly on and partly off him, with her head propped against his shoulder.

She retched again, and he did nothing other than the very practical motion of moving the clean bucket from the floor into her weak arms. She whined.

"I'm not leaving until you get something in your stomach," he said firmly. She wondered if she had enough strength to tell him that if he were going to force-feed her, then she wanted him to stay after that and hold her while she slept, too.

She mustn't have said anything after all, because he stayed silent and proceeded to pick up the bowl with his free hand. "No flailing limbs," he warned. "If you knock anything out of my hands, I'll have to put you down to clean up, and you _really _don't want me to move you around that much."

She had to agree—albeit without telling him so—and she didn't really have a choice when the spoon met her lips. Trying to suppress her gag reflex, she opened her mouth.

The first successful swallow made the second one easier, and she managed to make it to fifteen spoonfuls before her lips refused to part again. He breathed out in a rush underneath her, as if frustrated, but put down the bowl and stroked her hair.

"That's good work, Zi," he whispered, removing the bucket, and she had to smile a bit.

She blinked sleepily. "Sleep now?" she murmured.

"Yeah." She hesitated despite the permission in his voice and tried to fight the draw of sleep as she laid a hand on his chest. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

His reassurance strengthened by the way he gently ran his hand up and down her arm, she closed her eyes.

Her last thought before falling asleep was that someday, she was going to have to tell him that he made the best pillow in the world.


	23. Part II: Invitation

**Sophie is ahead of her studying schedule (unbelievably), so she decided to publish this :D I probably won't be able to get back to any PMs or reviews I haven't already replied to so quickly, though :( maybe one or two during study breaks, but I probably won't have caught up until the week after next. Exam this Friday, Internet disruption next Monday, and I've to carry out an experiment for my dissertation from next Tuesday to next Friday :/**

**Enough about me! Well, almost enough. This is not one of my favourite chapters, mostly because I feel like Ziva isn't that stupid, so I got her OOC here. But I wrote this ages ago in accordance to a post on Tumblr, so there wasn't a lot of leeway there :/ it was a stupid move, I know. I'm just warning you ahead of time.**

**One more note: There will be 30 chapters to this fic ... which is why I decided to post this chapter, haha. To make it a nice even number :D there are 8 more chapters, including this one.**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Invitation<strong>

"If you were getting married … who would you invite?"

The two junior agents' heads snapped up at the senior agent's casual question. Across the quiet bullpen, Ziva exchanged glances with McGee; he appeared equally as clueless as to where Tony's thoughts lay in that moment. Ziva's heart gave an odd _thump, _though, as if it thought Tony was being serious.

So she took the risk and asked carefully, "Why are you wondering this?"

He shrugged and turned his green eyes on her while his forehead creased thoughtfully. "Y'know, I'm just thinking about Jimmy's wedding. We weren't that close to him, and as was evidenced by his wedding, he actually _does _have a lot of friends, so why us? I can understand Ducky, but Gibbs … and me … I mean, we're friends an' all, but casual friends, y'know? Friends you hang out with at the bar or invite to a ball game when you have an extra ticket. I never really expected him to invite us to his wedding."

"Well, maybe we mean more to him than we know," McGee suggested helpfully.

"Writer's side in you coming out again, McPoeticProse?"

"Actually, I think McGee is right," Ziva answered as she returned to her work, having determined that Tony really _was _talking about Jimmy rather than … them. "We may not be the best of friends, but we work together, so we are his ... work family."

"Huh. Does that make sense?"

"I think it does," McGee answered. "So, Ziva, would you invite Jimmy to your wedding?"

"Yes, I would," Ziva said, and she knew she would if she ever got married. Jimmy was part of her work family, too. "And I would like to have a few close friends and family around … not too many people."

"That's nice. Hey, I'm invited, right?"

Ziva looked up in amusement at McGee's teasing question. "Of course you are. I would not dream of leaving you out, McGee."

"_Awww, _look at you two," Tony cut in fondly. "Best buds and all."

Ziva made a face at Tony, but McGee didn't even bother to roll his eyes. Instead, he just continued to say, "I think I'd invite all of you guys, my sister, Penny … maybe even my dad."

"You think he'd come?" Tony asked, and Ziva knew his tone to be serious rather than mocking.

McGee shrugged. "I think the bigger worry is whether he criticizes me for having the wrong kind of flowers or 'improper grammar' in my vows. And he'd certainly be the first to speak up if I put the bride's ring on the wrong finger."

"Wow," she and Tony said in unison before exchanging dismayed glances.

"That'd be nothing new, anyway. Tony, who would you invite?"

Tony took a deep breath and leant back in his chair, ticking people off lazily with his fingers. "Boss, you, Abby, Duckman … even Palmer. I'm starting to see what you mean about work family, now."

"What about me, Tony?" Ziva spoke up, her own eyebrows furrowing. Didn't she count as part of his work family? "I am not invited to your wedding?"

"_Right,_" Tony said, his eyes widening. "Yeah. Sorry, Zi. I guess you slipped my mind."

The last words were spoken in a cavalier manner, and she tried to ignore the hurt, but her pride won out in the end. "I _slipped your mind?_"

"Well, not like I forgot you, y'know, just…"

He trailed off and she knew why: He had forgotten her, plain and simple. He had forgotten her, his work partner of more than eight years and relationship partner of more than one. She didn't know why her eyes were getting ridiculously tearful at the thought when he wasn't actually even getting married, but she knew that an escape to the ladies' room was probably in order.

So, she got out of her chair and marched away.

xoxo

The door swung open while she was halfway through splashing water onto her face, and she didn't need to look over her shoulder to know it was Tony. (Mostly because she could hear his voice asking, "Any women in here? No screams? Good.")

She turned off the faucet and wiped her face rather ineffectively with her bare hands as he slipped into the room and locked the door. He checked the stalls before going to her; she simply watched him quietly.

"You okay?" he asked gently as he came to a stop in front of her.

"Yes." She nodded. "I'm sorry, I just overreacted a bit."

He smiled faintly. "Overreacting because I forgot to invite you to my hypothetical wedding, Ziva?"

"Well, I had hoped I would be important enough," she answered defensively, hoping that would justify her previous strange behaviour, but his smirk didn't fade.

"Of course you are."

"Well, then, why did you forget me? I mean, I understand that things would be awkward if I had to watch you hypothetically get married, but we would still be friends."

He shook his head and lightly brushed a bead of water from her face. "Ziva, you know you would always mean way more to me than that."

"I would not if—" she paused, staring at him wide-eyed as another possibility knocked her breath out of her. His smile grew. "You don't mean … _do you?_"

He grinned. "Mean what, Ziva?"

"Mean … mean…" she stumbled over her words, her heart racing and her throat suddenly feeling dry. But they had never even discussed it before, and surely she could not be so presumptuous as to ask him such a question?

He seemed to sense that, because he took pity on her and gathered her into his arms. "Yeah, I mean it," he told her quietly, running his fingers through her hair. "Didn't really wanna say it in the bullpen 'cause McGee was there, but I'm kinda hoping … that _we_ could get married someday."

She was ashamed of the rather girly sob which escaped her throat. Shock coursing through her veins, she asked, "You really wish to marry me?"

"Well, I mean…" he trailed off and stepped back a bit, studying her face with wariness. "If you don't want t—"

"I want to," she said fiercely, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "I want to marry you, Tony."

"Yes?" he asked thickly, happiness quickly seeping into his voice.

"Yes," she confirmed, and this time, he beamed when he leant back to look at her.

"_Ohmygod woman, you're so beautiful,_" he whispered in near reverence, and she barely had time to choke out a laugh before his lips were pressed to hers.


	24. Part II: Teddy Bear

**Teddy Bear**

"It's Valentine's Day today."

Ziva looked up from her work to find Tony leaning over her cubicle wall, grinning at her and looking a little too smug for someone who'd just arrived to a day of paperwork.

"I am aware of that, Tony," she answered, rolling back in her chair and studying him. "Are we going anywhere tonight?"

"Oh, no. I've brought the surprise to you this time."

"Oh?" She waited expectantly, but the only move he made was to widen his grin.

"It's waiting for you in your apartment."

"In my apartment?"

"In your apartment."

"… Did you break in after I left for work?"

"It's not called 'breaking in' if you gave me a key to it," he protested indignantly, and she chortled apologetically.

"I will look at the surprise when I get home, then."

"Let me know what you think," he replied with a nod, making it to his desk just as Gibbs swept into the bullpen.

xoxo

The first thing she noticed upon entering her apartment was the message taped to the back of the door that she was currently closing. It was written on simple white notepaper and read:

_This is probably gonna weird you out since neither of us does the 'sappily romantic' thing, but I thought I'd give it a try. Consider this a treasure hunt for your surprise._

_-T_

_Hint: If you know me well, you know the first thing I do after coming home from work._

Suspecting her eye roll to be of epic proportions, she closed the door and went into the kitchen. She thought she knew him pretty well; and sure enough, upon opening the fridge, she discovered a can of beer with another message stuck to it.

_Very good! Take a sip of beer; have a Kit-Kat. Kick back, relax, and enjoy a good bath._

_-T_

_Hint: I've already given you it. I hope you read the message carefully._

She wondered for a moment if she should open the can of beer and check inside it, but dismissed that thought quickly. Surely he could not be that insane?

A look around the kitchen and the fridge told her that no Kit-Kats had been added while she wasn't looking, so that left only the bath. She padded down the hallway and into her bathroom, peering into the bathtub. Stuck to one side was another message.

_Hope you saw this before you filled the bathtub :( I'm pretty sure the ink I used isn't waterproof. And I know you're probably annoyed at me right now but hey, the surprise is worth it! Come and be sappily romantic with me. Speaking of romance, it most often happens in the…._

_-T_

Hoping that he meant the bedroom rather than any restaurant with mood-lighting that she was going to have to drive down to, she stepped into the bedroom. And lo and behold! There, sitting atop her pillow like a little prince, was a teddy bear dressed in a little red woollen sweater.

The first feeling that went through her was irritation, because he _knew _she would've stepped into the bedroom for a change of clothes the moment she got home, and he _knew _she could've gotten to the teddy bear much faster if there hadn't been a 'treasure hunt.'

Stalking over to the teddy bear, she picked it up and started analysing how good a weapon it'd make when aimed at a certain man's head (not that she'd really throw it; she just wanted to make sure her threat would be sound).

Feeling it over, though, she noticed a very odd lump underneath the back of the teddy's sweater that made her pause, frown, and run her fingers over it again. The lump was of a very odd shape, indeed.

It felt almost like a ring would.

Quickly flipping the bear over, she lifted the sweater and checked. Taped firmly there—she could already predict the number of cloth fibres the tape was going to bring away with it—was the last thing she could ever have expected, and the only thing she could ever have wanted from him.

Platinum, size five, and with a diamond that reflected all her hopes and dreams.

Without detaching the ring, she whipped out her phone and speed-dialled him. He picked up immediately. "Are you really asking?" she demanded to know as she brushed furiously at her face with the back of the hand holding the bear.

"I'm at your front door," he said quietly. "Open up."

She wasted no time in doing just so. And there he stood, wearing his suit from work and an expression halfway between apprehension and hope. The rose he held in his hand definitely hadn't been there when she'd last saw him in the Navy Yard, though.

"This…" he began hesitantly, giving her the rose, "is for Valentine's Day. The other's for life … y'know, if you want it."

She brushed another tear away and handed him the teddy bear, and he only had a split second to look horrified before she said, "You aren't going to make me put it on by myself, are you?"

He chuckled in shocked relief, and his shaky fingers pulled the ring from its hiding place. Brushing away some red fibres, he handed her back the teddy bear and went down on one knee in front of her.

"Ziva David, will you be my wi—"

"Yes," she answered thickly before he could finish his question. "_I will._"

With a noise that sounded suspiciously like sniffles, he gently slid the ring onto her finger and brushed his lips lightly against her knuckles. Andthis was it, she realized. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. She was now engaged to be married.

She was going to be Tony DiNozzo's wife.


	25. Part II: Picture

**Picture**

Ziva's expression the moment Tony stepped into their bedroom made him nervous, but what made him panic was the photograph she held in her hands. She had seen the picture he had taken of her in Paris before, of course, but he'd assumed that she'd forgotten about it, and never in a million years had he imagined that she would find it so craftily hidden inside the cover of a DVD.

"Tony," she said, her voice almost a whisper as she barely lifted her eyes from the picture, "Yo- … what is this?"

He swallowed and put on his best playful expression. "It's a picture, Ziva. What else did you think it was?"

"I know it is a picture, but it is a picture of … me."

"Well, I'm glad to know you can recognize yoursel—"

"Kept inside the covers of the _Sound of Music. _In your bedside table."

"Oh, yeah, so _that's _where the DVD was! I've been lookin' for it forever…"

The look Ziva gave him suggested she was calling him on his lie, but at least a small smile curled the corners of her lips. She patted the spot next to her on the bed invitingly. "Come here."

He approached slowly, hesitant in his movements as he sank down onto the bed and took the picture from her hands. "Are you mad?"

She looked surprised. "No. Should I be?"

"I don't know, Ziva. I keep a picture of you in my bedside table. It's kinda creepy; you should be calling the cops and getting as far away from me as you can right now."

She laughed, and her amusement irked him a little because he was actually being _serious, _here. But then she kissed his cheek as she gently extracted the photograph from his hands, and the irritation in him abated. "It is not creepy, Tony."

"Really?"

She tilted her head. "It is … touching. And perhaps a bit surprising. But not creepy."

He didn't want to tell her that he'd kept that picture of her in its current place since the night he'd returned to his own apartment from Paris, but he thought that from the way she was looking at him, she probably knew, anyway. He kept silent until she searched his eyes and asked her next question.

"If you think it is creepy, why did you do it?"

He shrugged and, trying to sound as innocent as possible, answered, "I've had a crush on you for the longest time."

She chuckled. "A crush?"

"Well … there's no other way to put it."

She searched his face some more, but he averted his eyes. Then she leant in, laying a hand on his shoulder and whispering into his ear, "Just so you know … I do not have a picture of you. But before I moved in, I did keep that Christmas gift you gave me in my bedside table."

That gave him the courage to look at her and grin playfully. "Really, David? Did you have a crush on me then, too?"

She smacked his arm lightly, but her eyes twinkled. "You are an idiot, DiNozzo. And _stop _calling me 'David.'"

"Oh, you're right. I should get used to calling you 'DiNozzo' instead."

Her lips twitched. "We're not married yet. And that would be like calling to yourself."

"Huh. Guess I'll have to settle for calling you 'Zi,' then." He pretended to wrinkle his nose, but the half-adoring, half-exasperated look on her face as she gazed at him made him forget all about the jokes. So he bent down to press a kiss to her lips. "I love you, Zi."

She hummed in response and carefully returned the picture to its DVD cover. Only when she had put the DVD back in his bedside table drawer, assuring him that she didn't mind what he'd done in the least bit, did she turn back to him with a fond smile. His skin tingled when she stroked his cheek.

"I love you very much too, Tony."


	26. Part II: Honeysuckle

**Alright, folks. Moving into to family-fic territory here :D and although this fics are not related, I would like to repeat that I've only one Tiva family involving two children: an elder daughter, Lila Angela, and her younger brother, Benjamin Isaia. It's not really important; I'd just like to make things clearer, lol. And they don't show up in this fic-in this drabble, Tony and Ziva are choosing baby names! Yay!**

**And yes, it's sappily sweet. Prepare for toothache :S**

**One of my dissertation supervisors said she liked my statistical analysis, btw :D just sharin' here, don't mind me...**

**Onto the fic now.**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Honeysuckle<strong>

"I'm thinking flower names…" he said, his head tilted to one side in thought. "Like 'Violet.'"

"'Violet DiNozzo'?" She furrowed her eyebrows. "It sounds as if this child might have identity issues."

"What? _Why?_"

"It does not fit." She waved her arms about, trying to get her point across. "I don't know. It sounds strange. And I do not think 'Violet' is a popular baby name nowadays."

"Well, I don't wanna send her to school with a name that ten other kids will have."

"Yes, but '_Violet DiNozzo_'?"

"Okay." He thought again. "'Honeysuckle.'"

"Oh, tell me you are kidding."

"Why not?" He waggled his eyebrows playfully. "We could shorten it to 'Honey,' and it'd be both a nickname and a pet name. Two in one. It's a brilliant idea."

"It is an awful idea. And I'm not going to let you name our child 'Honeysuckle.'"

He chortled. "You should see your face right now. Alright, I'm thinking this. How 'bout half-Hebrew, half-Italian names?"

"Do you think that will work?"

He shrugged. "We could find out. There's gotta be a list around somewhere."

She nodded. "I will look for it." She dropped her feet into his lap, and he absent-mindedly started massaging them.

"Hey, Zi?"

"Mmm?" she asked lazily, sinking her head into the pillows.

"You sure you don't want your last name in there, too?"

She wrinkled her nose. "'DiNozzo-David' or 'David-DiNozzo' would be too long."

"Well, it could always just be 'David.'"

"You do not want our daughter to have your name?"

"'Course I do," he said quickly. "It's just … y'know, I don't want you to get the impression that everything has to be 'DiNozzo.'"

She smiled fondly at him. "I have no such impression. I only have such a wish."

He chuckled and tweaked her big toe. "Since when did you start saying such sappy things?"

She studied the wedding band on her finger nonchalantly. "Since I bear your last name, too."

A smile curved his lips, and he carefully shifted so that he could kiss her. "I think it may've been the best decision I ever made."

She laughed. "Well, I'm glad you think so."

"So, just 'DiNozzo'?"

"Just 'DiNozzo,'" she confirmed. "How many children do you think we should have?"

"A little too soon for that, don't you think?" He tapped her belly gently. "First one's still on the way."

"It is never too soon to plan."

"Hmm. How many do you want?"

She raised her eyebrows. "If we are going by how many I _want, _then you should be prepared to buy a bus for transport."

"That many, huh?" he asked in amusement.

"I think we should have three at most."

"Why three?"

"It works out economically and socially. We can afford to take care of three children."

"Hmm. You're right."

"Yes." She jumped when an odd sensation went through her. "Tony."

"Baby kicking again?" He placed his hand excitedly on her stomach. "Where?"

She shifted his hand to where she had felt the kicking. "Here."

A few seconds later came a stronger kick, and the smile on his face broadened as if it were still the first time that he'd felt the baby kicking. "_Wow. _She's strong."

"Mmhmm." She watched as he leant in closer and whispered to her belly. "What are you doing?"

"Telling the baby it's good she's showing enthusiasm, but it's not nice to kick others."

She burst into laughter. "Tony, she's a foetus. They kick."

"Oh, don't call them that. That makes them sound like scientific experiments. Call her 'baby.'"

"Alright. Babies kick." She gave him an indulgent smile. "I think you will make a good father."

He grinned. "Well, thank you, Mrs DiNozzo."


	27. Part II: Notebook

**So, this chapter is sad :P I really do swing from one end to the other, don't I?**

**A little bit of backstory here: Ben is a premie; for the first two years of his life, he fell ill quite a number of times and had to be admitted into the hospital for quite a number of times. In this story, he's about one-and-a-half and is in the hospital once more, and this is what happened at home while he was there.**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Notebook<strong>

"What are you writing?"

Tony slammed the notebook shut, silently cursing his wife's ability to creep up upon him. He turned around to look at her rapidly paling face and remembered belatedly that the cover of the notebook had a name carefully etched into it: _Benjamin._

Sighing, he pulled out the stool beside him and eased Ziva onto it, letting her lean weakly against him.

"I've been writing to Ben…" he told her. "Y'know, 'cause one time he's in the hospital for two days and the next time it's a week … I feel like he's missing out on a lot. This family time that he should be having with us, instead."

He swallowed before continuing. "So I'm telling him … what happens here, y'know. I know he won't be able to read it yet, and he probably won't even remember all these years when he grows old enough to read it, but it feels … right."

She sniffled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure how you'd react." He kissed her hair softly. "You've been worried enough, and I thought this might worry you even more…"

"So you do this every time he gets admitted into the hospital?"

"Yeah, apart from the first few months after he was … born." Tony faltered there, because Ben wasn't supposed to have been born then; not their Ben, their tiny and strong and brave little fighter, so eager to see the world but having to pay for it right now.

Ziva leant forward and hesitantly picked up the notebook, flipping through its pages. There were too many; too many for a boy of one-and-a-half, and too much proof of how many times he had been admitted into the hospital since he was born.

A teardrop hit the notebook, followed quickly by another, and yet another, until Ziva could stand it no more and had to put the notebook down and bury her face into her husband's shoulder. He caught her, wrapping his arms around her torso and shushing her gently. He knew that the worry was finally catching up with her. Ben—thankfully—wasn't on his death bed; he wasn't even so ill that he required constant monitoring, but he was their baby, and they could wish for nothing less than perfect health for him, and he should have been home right now. Being tucked into bed by his parents, read a story to by his father and sung a lullaby to by his mother, just like things would have been in a healthy family.

His wife looked up when a teardrop ran down his cheek and into her hair. Brushing his cheek tenderly, she braved a smile.

"Have you finished writing today's entry?" she asked, and he shook his head mutely. She hesitated. "Can I … look … while you write?"

He released her with a kiss and opened the notebook again, ready to get back to business:

… _So Mommy just came in and discovered me writing to you … I thought she was going to be mad, but it turns out that she supports this idea. I guess this notebook will have stuff by both Mommy and Daddy now._

He looked at her questioningly, and she nodded her assent. He continued:

_Anyway, I was telling you about your sister. She picked up a book today and read from it like she'd been reading it her whole life. I was amazed. That's an incredible accomplishment, Ben, and someday you'll have that too. I make a promise to you that when you leave the hospital, I'll read you every children's book I can get my hands on. And Mommy will probably sing you every song she knows. You'll be the cool kid in class because you'll know everything and have the most awesome parents. But that's later on. Just focus on your recovery now, okay?_

_Love,_

_Mommy & Daddy_

He shut the notebook and looked at Ziva; she was crying again, tears silently streaming down her face. He gathered her into his arms.

"I feel like I need to go and look at Ben again," she confessed thickly, and he kissed the top of her head.

"He'll be fine, Zi. The doctors are taking good care of him."

"I know … but I…"

"Hey," he said, stroking her hair, "I'll drive you there first thing in the morning, I promise. But there's no one to look after Lila right now, and we need to get some sleep if we want to keep our energy up tomorrow."

She let out a tearful laugh. "I don't know if I'll be able to sleep."

"We have to try."

She pulled away reluctantly and held out her hand, as if willing him to help her. So he took up her hand, and they slid off the stools and made their way out of the kitchen, turning off the lights on their way upstairs.

And the notebook sat downstairs on the kitchen island, ready for the next thought Tony and Ziva would share with their son.


	28. Part II: Rollercoaster

**Rollercoaster**

"Mommy?" Lila asked, looking up from her pile of Lego bricks.

"Yes, _nesicha?_" Ziva put down her book, expecting one of the philosophical questions that her four-and-a-half-year-old had taken to asking lately.

"Can I have a rollercoaster?"

"A rollercoaster?" she repeated, blinking in surprise. "Like one of those from a theme park?"

"Yeah." Lila smiled, clapping her hands. "A big one!"

Ziva chuckled and removed herself from the couch, going to sit in front of her daughter on the floor instead. "But Lila, where can we find a rollercoaster?"

The four-year-old chewed on her lip, thinking. "Does the har'ware store that Daddy gone to sell them?"

"No, the hardware store does not sell them," Ziva said with a smile, brushing her daughter's hair back. "Besides, _chérie,_ Daddy and I cannot afford a rollercoaster."

"Oh," her daughter answered, downcast. "Can we build one?"

"That would be too expensive, too. But," Ziva picked up a Lego brick, "we could build one using Lego. A small one. Would that work?"

"Can the Lego people go on it?"

"Of course! They would enjoy it very much."

Lila cheered up. "Okay. I wanna build a Lego rollercoaster!"

xoxo

Half an hour later, Tony came home with Ben to find them hard at work creating a mini plastic-brick engineering marvel. Ziva had to admit that replicating the curves of a rollercoaster using Lego was turning out to be harder than she'd thought, but she wasn't giving up yet. As Ben struggled to be let down from his father's arms and Tony raised his eyebrows at her, she explained, "We're building a rollercoaster."

"Really?" Tony asked, intrigued; Ben dived straight into his mother's lap.

"Mommy, I want do too."

"Here, Benny," Lila said, handing her brother some bricks, "but don't break them. And don't put them in your mouth! They're dangerous."

Ziva shared an amused glance with her husband. "What is dangewes?" Ben asked; Ziva could hear the frown in his voice.

"It means they could hurt you," she explained, and Ben dropped the bricks as if he'd been burnt.

"Don't break them!" Lila squealed in indignation.

"It's okay, Li," Tony reassured, sitting down beside her. "He didn't break them. And Ben, they can only hurt you if you put them in your mouth."

"Why?" Ben frowned.

"Because you could accidentally swallow them, and they could get stuck here, in your throat." Tony ran a finger down the middle of their son's neck.

"Oh."

"But they're safe to hold," Ziva added, picking up the pieces Ben had dropped and carefully closing his palms around them. "See?"

"Yeah."

"So, do you want to help us build a rollercoaster?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. You can be Mommy's helper. And Daddy can help Lila, yes?" She glanced up at Tony; he took it as his cue to lean over and give guidance where Lila needed it. Silence resumed as the family went back to work on the structure.

xoxo

It took three-and-a-half hours and two disagreements between Tony and Ziva for the rollercoaster to be finished. Project done, they started looking for a place to put it; they finally decided on the spot atop the TV cabinet right next to Tony's DVD rack. They gave Lila the honour of stepping forward and placing the Lego rollercoaster carefully in its new place.

With the ceremony done, lunch was in order; they took the children into the kitchen and sat them on the table so that they could look at Ziva's sandwich-making process. When extra cheese had been added to Lila's sandwich and the crust had been cut off Ben's, the children were fed and the parents sat watching them.

It'd been a productive day, after all. They'd all built a rollercoaster.


	29. Part II: Cheese

**Cheese**

"No, Daddy! Like this!" Lila gesticulated wildly, trying to illustrate what she wanted.

Tony sighed and unwrapped another thin slice of cheese from its package, laying it flat on the cutting board. "Are you sure you don't just want a smiley face?"

Lila crossed her arms. "I can't eat faces."

"You ate one yesterday."

"Today, I can't eat it." She pouted. "Bernie will get mad."

He frowned. "Who's Bernie?"

"My friend!" Lila pointed to an empty spot in mid-air next to her. "Don't you see him? Say hi, Bernie!"

Trying not to let his jaw fall open too much, Tony stared at the air. Was Lila having what they called an imaginary friend? He hoped so, because it was either that or hallucinations, and he wasn't particularly fond of the latter.

"Bernie says hi," his daughter informed him. "Say hi back, Daddy!"

"Um … hi, Bernie." Judging by his daughter's nod, Lila approved of his response; and then she suddenly leant slightly to her left and nodded intently.

She straightened up again. "Bernie says he likes you," she announced, and he felt an irrational flash of pride at being liked by his daughter's imaginary friend. "He says he's sorry to bother you, but he doesn't eat faces."

Tony looked uncertainly down at the cheese. "Is this for Bernie?"

Lila squealed with laughter. "No, Daddy! That's for me! Bernie has his own sandwich. But I like our sandwiches to match."

He tried to process that information; it was strange, trying to pretend that they'd known Bernie for a long time when he was fairly certain Bernie had not existed yesterday.

"Okay," he said, shaking his head. "How does Bernie's cheese sandwich look like? Here, draw it for me."

Fetching a pencil and a piece of paper from the kitchen island where Ziva had been doing crossword puzzles the previous night, he placed them down in front of Lila. She obliged and drew something that might either have been a cow or a dog—he wasn't sure.

"Is that a cow?" he double-checked.

Lila nodded vigorously. "Bernie says cheese comes from cows."

Wondering where his daughter's imaginary friend had picked up that little titbit, Tony proceeded to make the cheese look as cow-like as possible.

"Here," he said when he was done, putting down the knife. "Do I pass?"

Lila eyed it critically and consulted her friend. Finally she gave a firm nod. "Ten points, Daddy." She held up ten small fingers.

"Out of what?" Tony asked, his lips twitching.

"Out of ten."

"Really? I get full marks?"

"Yes." Lila grinned, her smile lighting up the room, and Tony slowly transferred the cow-shaped cheese onto the bread.

"Now will you eat your lunch?"

"Yeah." Lila giggled, and then shifted carefully across the table to give Tony a peck on the cheek. "Thank you, Daddy."

Tony smiled, lifting his daughter to the ground before handing her the plastic plate. "You're welcome. Does Bernie know how to get down from the table by himself?"

"He climbed down, just like he climbed up."

"Okay." And then, wondering if it was at all necessary to warn against peer influence when the peer was made out of thin air, he added, "But don't do what he did. It's dangerous; he could have hurt himself."

"Yes, Daddy."

Tony stroked his daughter's hair. "Go eat. And no crumbs, please."

"Okay," Lila chirped, carefully shifting her plate onto one hand and holding out her other hand, as if to wrap it around someone else's. "Come on, Bernie! Lunchtime!"

* * *

><p><strong>Think Lila's got Tony wrapped around her little finger? You'd be totally right! I <em>love <em>this drabble, though :P hope you did, too.**

**Thank you for reading; please review!**

**-_Soph_**

**P.S. I just have one more chapter to go, so ... it's almost time for goodbyes, now :(**


	30. Part II: Sand

**That's it, folks! Last one!**

**I just want to make a note here that some friends and a few reviewers have been asking me to write more of Ben; I know I rarely write about or even address Ben in my family fics, but I do have a couple of one-shot plot ideas for him, which I will be getting to once I finish my newest multi-chapter fic (or die from overwork as a result of it, whichever comes first. And yes, I think I might just have been advertising my multi-chapter). The reason Ben doesn't usually feature in my family fics is because of the topics addressed. It would be strange, after all, for Ben to appear in a fic where Lila's specifically confused about her religious identity. Even weirder if he had a starring role in a fic where she attempted to deal with the reality of sexual harassment. Or maybe I just relate better to Lila. Uh ... either way, I am going to attempt to write more of Ben, so if you're his fan (almost-rhyme unintended), please stay tuned! I will not be updating this story anymore, but any one-shots of Ben will say "Part of the _How Far We've Come _series" in the summaries in the Archives :P**

**Enjoy! And thank you so much to everyone who's kept with, supported, and reviewed this fic!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

><p><strong>Sand<strong>

"Go! Go catch Daddy!" Ziva shouted, laughing as her kids took off in the direction of a half-screaming Tony.

Six-year-old Lila and four-year-old Ben raced along the beach, kicking up sand and attracting a good bit of attention, and Tony alternated between slowing down so that the children could catch up and speeding off with a cheeky grin on his face. Ziva stood beneath the large umbrella they had brought with them, not quite sitting back and relaxing, but very much enjoying hearing her children's youthful laughter fill the air. It was mingled with the laughter of the many other children on the beach and formed, in Ziva's opinion, the most melodious sound on Earth. Nothing could quite compare with the sound of carefree laughter.

The children soon caught Tony and brought him back, each holding one of his hands; he grinned and flopped down onto the sand exhaustedly and told her, "Y'know, I think they're gonna be athletes someday or something."

She smiled and sat down beside him. "Yes, but you do know what they were planning to do to you once they caught you?"

His twinkling gaze turned bewildered. "What?"

"Bury you in sand."

"_What?_" Tony barely had time to flail himself into a sitting position before his children appeared with their buckets of sand and dumped the sand unceremoniously onto his legs.

"Don't move, Dad!" Lila cried in dismay as some of the sand slid off. Ben immediately tried shifting it back onto Tony. "You said you'd let us do anything we wanted, and this is what we wanna do!"

"Well, why not bury Mom?" Tony asked weakly even as he lay back down, and Lila flashed a grin in the direction of her mother.

"Mom said she's gonna build a sandcastle with us."

Ziva chuckled as Tony groaned and resigned himself to his fate. The children got to work, carefully patting the sand around their father and making sure that only his head peeked out. If truth be told, she thought Tony was rather amused by the children's dedication in their pursuit; amusement flitted across his face a few times, and once his body vibrated so hard that some of the sand came sliding off and eliciting an annoyed squeal from Lila.

When they were done, Ben dusted off his hands and looked enquiringly up at Ziva; she nodded, and the children had scampered off with their buckets before it registered in Tony's mind that they were going to leave him like this while they built the sandcastle.

"You can't be serious," he said to her, his face a study in horror. She laughed and moved the umbrella closer so that her husband would be protected from the sun.

"It won't be that bad. We will be done soon, and we will not be that far away. Don't worry, Tony," she teased, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, "we will not forget about you."

"Well, what do I do in the meantime?"

"Take a nap?" she suggested. "I will watch the things; do not worry about their being stolen."

"Ohmygod."

She ruffled Tony's hair affectionately. "I will give you an extra sandwich at lunch as reward."

He chuckled. "You know Ben and Lila would totally complain about that."

"I will just tell them that you are bigger and require more energy." She bent down to kiss his forehead and then stood up, preparing to join her children. "Relax, Tony. That is what a day at the beach is meant for, yes?"

"I have sand in my shorts," he grumbled as she gathered the basket with their things in it.

xoxo

He was asleep by the time Ziva and the children returned to him—quite soundly, too, by the looks of it.

Lila looked up with huge brown eyes at her mother and asked for her water bottle; she then uncapped it and started dripping water onto Tony's forehead, and Ziva had to suppress her laughter because she remembered a time when she had once done that.

Tony came to life with great shock, thrashing awake and sending a shower of sand over the rest of the family. His protest were drowned out by their laughter, so he settled for extricating himself carefully and brushing off some sand.

He sat down next to Lila and mock-glared at her while Ben crawled into his lap; Ziva unpacked the disinfectant wipes and handed them out.

Lila opened her mouth to protest.

"_Wipe,_" Ziva said firmly, doing the same with her own hands. "Or your hands will be dirty and you cannot eat your sandwiches."

Jutting a lip out, Lila complied. Ziva took away some of the sting by handing her daughter a sandwich first, and as she watched her children's (and husband's) faces light up at the sight of food after a long morning of playing in the sand, she knew that it was going to be a perfect day.


End file.
